


I may not be the Boy-Who-Lived, but I can still be your Chosen One

by SassyStarboard



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Awkward Flirting, Bad Puns, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hufflepuff Derek Hale, Innuendo, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Quidditch, Quidditch Player Derek Hale, Ravenclaw Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Flirts, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28968372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyStarboard/pseuds/SassyStarboard
Summary: i’m a quidditch player, and you’re the announcer, and i am trying really hard not to notice that your comments about me are becoming less and less about how i’m playing, and more and more about how i look in my quidditch uniform(rated T for suggestive language/terrible puns/wizard themed pick-up lines)
Relationships: Derek Hale & Erica Reyes, Derek Hale & Isaac Lahey & Erica Reyes, Derek Hale & Kira Yukimura, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 8
Kudos: 163





	I may not be the Boy-Who-Lived, but I can still be your Chosen One

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Tumblr post about Sirius Black being the Quidditch commentator in the Marauders era and a different post that was full of Hogwarts AU prompts (the prompt I used is in the summary) but I don’t remember whose posts they were. Hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it!

_ “What’s up, my witches? Coming to you live from the Hogwarts quidditch pitch, it’s Hufflepuff versus Slytherin in a Quidditch showdown of  _ **_epic_ ** _ proportions! In just a few short minutes, Finstock will release the Snitch alongside the Bludgers and our game will begin with the traditional toss of the Quaffle. Isn’t it a beautiful day for a match, folks?” _

Derek’s gaze flitted automatically towards the new commentator. It was Hufflepuff’s second match of the season, and today was the perfect day for a game of Quidditch. The weather was clear and sunny. The wind speed was just under five kilometers an hour; enough for a decent tailwind but not strong enough to be blown off course. Even better, the Slytherin team had been forced to make a last minute substitution. Hufflepuff’s chances of winning the match today were very good. Derek was almost in a perfect mood.

_ Almost  _ because the Slytherins weren’t the only ones working through a last-minute substitution. 

_ Almost  _ because the animated delivery of the magically-amplified voice currently ringing out over the school grounds was hopelessly easy for Derek to place.

“ _ When I say HOG, you say WARTS! HOG! HOG! HOG! Oh yeah! Go quidditch! Let’s go!” _

Greenberg, the original announcer, had been an idiot. Speaking in terms of common sense, that is, and almost certainly when it came to self-preservation skills. 

A prime example of this had been last week's match—the very first Gryffindor versus Slytherin quidditch match of the season. Greenberg, the idiot, had made one too many snide comments about Slytherin Captain Jackson Whittemore’s “wildly incompetent” flying style. In retaliation, Whittemore had ordered one of the Slytherin Beaters—twins, and Derek had no idea which one was which—to aim directly for the commentator box. Greenberg had been decked with a Bludger faster than you could say  _ Quidditch _ . As a result of his actions, Whittemore had been suspended from his next game for abusing his position and Greenberg had wound up in the hospital wing, leaving a vacancy both on the Slytherin team and in the commentators box.

The Slytherin position had been temporarily filled by a third year named Liam Dunbar, a reserve player who even Derek had to begrudgingly admit made quite a decent flyer. Dunbar was beyond skilled for his age but, fortunately for Hufflepuff, was far too aggressive for the Seeker position—short tempers didn’t make for quick brooms. Jackson was hot-headed, yes, but he could be level when it counted. The same could not be said for Liam Dunbar. 

The commentator box, on the other hand, was now occupied by none other than Stiles Stilinski—an annoying, know-it-all, Ravenclaw muggleborn who spoke with the frequency and confidence of someone who had never been told to shut up.

Derek was obsessed with him.

_ “Yes, witches and warlocks, we are moments away from a battle to rival the Goblin Wars themselves! Thankfully, let me say first and foremost that each and every one of these beautiful players—except of course for one very ugly Slytherin Chaser, but good to see you trying your best out there, Raeken—is far better looking than those centuries old warmongers.” _

Derek’s hopelessly devoted crush aside, desperation had obviously been the deciding factor for the selection committee. 

Unable to help himself, Derek shot a glance at Theo Raeken from across the pitch. Raeken was hovering in the air next to Brett Talbot and Derek’s cousin Malia—the other Slytherin Chasers—while scowling furiously at Stiles. Derek wasn’t surprised; many wild speculations circled around their rivalry. Derek, of course, didn’t participate in such gossip. He didn’t need to, because being best friends with Erica Reyes told him all he needed to know. Then again, having a  _ mild _ infatuation with Stiles had been quite helpful as well.

The short version? Stiles, who was very quietly attending Hogwarts on full academic scholarship, had walked in on his then-boyfriend Theo in bed with a Ravenclaw seventh year the morning of his Transfiguration final. 

The long version? Raeken, as it turned out, had been with the girl (and several others) for nearly the entire duration of his and Stiles’ relationship. Worse still, upon discovery, Raeken had simply smirked and invited Stiles to join in. An hour later, nasty rumors had begun circulating all over the school. Two hours later, Stiles’ unstable emotions had wrecked his wandwork, tanked his exam scores, and consequently demolished his class ranking. Stiles had ended up with an overall  _ Acceptable _ in his best and favorite subject, dragging his academic standing down from second (just behind Ravenclaw Prefect Lydia Martin) to ninth.

Stiles had been  _ livid. _

Now, every interaction between the two of them was violent and acidic, each terrible confrontation pushing any remaining memory of their brief romantic relationship further and further into the backs of their fellow students’ minds. Horribly, the most common rumor Derek heard was that Theo had been  _ using  _ Stiles to get ahead in his classes. Horrible for all the normal reasons of course, but horrible in particular because Theo had been doing fairly well in school even before the two of them had begun dating, which meant he’d simply decided to prey on Stiles out of sheer cruelty. Some wizards found friends in students from other houses. Others saw easy targets.

“ _ Lookout, folks! Today’s lineup has a surprise addition! In place of Slytherin favorite Captain Shi—Captain  _ **_Whitte_ ** _ more, the position of Slytherin Seeker for this match will be filled by a reserve team member, third year Liam Dunbar. Oh hey, I know him! Congratulations, Dunbar! Wave to the crowd! Don’t mess up, kid! The whole school is watching!” _

Stiles’ voice booming out across the quidditch pitch tugged Derek sharply back into the present. 

Derek shook his head, a vain attempt to force his thoughts of Stiles, of Stiles and Raeken, of anything non-quidditch related from his brain. Because today—for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with Stiles—Derek  _ desperately _ wanted to crush the Slytherins. The game should be easy, really. Kira was a better Seeker than Liam and that was that. She was a better flyer, she was faster, and—unlike Liam—she wasn’t violently impulsive. True, Derek himself might come off as a tad aggressive, but at least he’d never lost his temper at a first year.

The warning whistle blew. Derek and his teammates flew down to the pitch, touching down on the field across from the Slytherins. Liam was the only change to their lineup, Derek noticed. Theo, Brett, and Malia stood in the center, dead across from Derek, Erica, and Corey. Slytherin Keeper Danny Mahealani winked flirtatiously at Isaac before elbowing one of the Slytherin Beaters with a smirk. Probably Ethan, which made the other one—the one eyeing Mason and Heather like he wanted to eat them—Aiden. Liam and Kira rounded off the ends of their lines; Kira nervously flexing her hands inside her Seekers’ gloves while Liam studied her with a calculating stare. 

It had been years since anyone besides Slytherin had won the house cup. Admittedly, the Slytherin team was good, but they acted entitled enough as it was without the added glory that came with being the reigning Quidditch champions. Part of their skill had to do with the top-of-the-line broomsticks they all seemed to have, but most of them had real technique to fall back on. Some of them had strong talent. But Derek had Isaac and Erica. The Slytherin team might have better players this year than they did the last but they each played to their own strengths, often loath to cooperate with each other. Luckily, Derek and his teammates worked as a unit and they did it with Hufflepuff pride.

“Listen up, you little punks.” Finstock glanced down at his clipboard, a bright silver whistle hanging from his neck. “No cobbing, flacking, blurting, blatching, stooging, bumphing, or haversacking. Got it?”

A drawling chorus of  _ yes coach _ rang out from the players, ringing out clearly from the Hufflepuffs and begrudgingly from the Slytherins. Finstock nodded sharply in approval, the quick salute of a drill sergeant.

“Captains, shake hands.”

Derek reached across the space between the two teams and shook hands with Malia, who had been appointed acting Captain in Whittemore’s absence. Derek grinned viciously at his cousin. Malia rolled her eyes, eternally unimpressed. Her hair was tied back into a tight braid, which Derek thought might’ve been contributing to her mood. He knew how much she hated wearing her hair up. Then again, Malia also hated Liam Dunbar. Finstock nodded once more and the two of them retreated to their respective sides.

“Right. Players, assume the position—that means you, Talbot, you’re not above the law. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, mount your brooms. On my whistle . . . three . . . two . . .one . . . up!” Finstock blew the whistle, tossing the Quaffle in the air.

All players kicked off. First in the air, Derek shot forward, seizing the Quaffle and speeding towards the Slytherin end of the field with Corey and Erica at his heels. Isaac and Danny swooped up to the goal posts, while Kira and Liam flew high up into the air to survey the pitch.

_ “And the match has begun! The Quaffle is taken immediately by Hufflepuff Derek Hale, followed closely by Chasers Reyes and Bryant. What a flyer that boy is, and rather attractive too. I’ve been saying it for months but he still won’t go out with me _ — _ ” _

_ “Stilinski!” _

_ “Sorry, Professor.” _

Derek growled and sped forward, heading towards the goal posts with Malia, Theo, and Brett looping upwards to defend their goal. Theo swerved to follow Derek, gaining ground while Malia sped up and over, aiming to cut him off. Derek dove below her and tossed the Quaffle through the goal, a red blur that went straight past Danny and into the hoop. The Keeper had never seen him coming. Derek grinned as Danny collected the Quaffle and threw it back out into the game, straight into Corey’s arms. Their ball.

_ “And right off the bat, that’s ten points to Hufflepuff as Chaser Hale scores with the Quaffle just as easily as he can score with me. Once again, that’s ten points to Hufflepuff.” _

Derek jolted, his broom stuttering for a moment before he recovered. No, he must have . . . Stiles wasn’t . . .  _ him _ ? Derek shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts enough to focus on the game. He was being ridiculous. Stiles flirted with everyone and preened when given the slightest bit of attention; a known troublemaker who was clearly bored out of his mind up in the commentators box. One off-handed comment didn’t mean anything. Derek rolled his eyes, reluctantly returning the smug salute Erica had thrown his way in passing. If only to get rid of the pointed scowl he’d received for initially ignoring her gesture. 

_ “Bryant with the Quaffle—hands it off to Reyes—Reyes to Hale—Hale to Reyes—Reyes tosses to—oh! Drops down to Slytherin!” _

Derek scowled, turning and keeping his eyes trained on the Quaffle after Malia flashed a wicked grin in his direction. Barely, he just registered two black and gold blurs speed past him when Mason and Heather flew by with their Beaters’s bats.

_ “Slytherin in possession. Talbot with the Quaffle—he flies past Bryant—past Reyes—oh, Talbot hit hard in the side with a Bludger, attagirl Heather! Quaffle falls through the air as— _ **_damn it!_ ** _ —Raeken makes the catch . . . What? No cursing? Well that’s just not right, this is a sport, isn’t it?” _

Derek followed the ball, chasing after the Slytherins as they headed for the Hufflepuff goalposts. He took a brief moment to glance up towards where Kira and Liam were circling the field up high before he himself shot upwards, planning to overtake Theo from above. Employing their new formation, Corey followed close behind while Erica zoomed forward to head the Slytherin’s off at the goalposts. 

_ “Hufflepuff Hale coming up on the right looking absolutely dashing in yellow. Just look at that gorgeous form—and his flying isn’t too bad either. I wouldn’t mind visiting his Restricted Section if you catch my drift.” _

Derek jerked, caught off guard. He glanced down just in time to see Theo furiously chuck the Quaffle at the Hufflepuff hoops, clearly irritated with Stilnski’s comments. Theo grew even more irritated when Isaac caught the ball, blocking the goal with ease. Isaac snorted and threw the Quaffle to Erica, who winked at Theo and zoomed off towards the Slytherin goal posts.

_ “Hufflepuff in the lead! Boy, I certainly hope Hufflepuff is thanking Merlin for Raeken right now. That man’s aim is so pathetic I’d be more worried if he was aiming for the person next to me. By god, I’ve never—Jesus Christ!” _

Derek turned just in time to see Stiles dive under the podium, narrowly avoiding a  _ stray _ Bludger that had come barrelling towards him—exactly what had gotten Whittemore suspended in the first place, yet tactful enough to seem like an accident. Aiden (or maybe it was Ethan) leered at Stiles from the Slytherin end of the pitch. Derek scowled and signaled to Heather. Heather changed direction mid-turn to chase towards the rebounding bludger. Her bat whacked it with a loud  _ crack _ and sent it hurtling at one of the twins, missing it’s target only because he rolled under his broom to avoid it with a split-second to spare. 

The game progressed fairly quickly, continuing on as each side collected goals with the Quaffle. Hufflepuff was leading 50 to 40 when the cheeky remarks started back up again, calling Derek’s attention back to the commentator’s box when the comments finally returned in full force. Evidently Stiles’ near decapitation had done nothing to quell his troublemaking spirit.

_ “To the person who just asked me if Chaser Reyes was single, I’m going to tell you right now that you’re not good enough for her. Chaser Raeken, however, has no standards at all and allows just about anyone into his Chamber of Secrets. I’m sure he’ll let you have a go.” _

Theo flew earnestly after Malia, his face twisted into a grimace as his jaw clenched tightly. Derek grinned and scanned the pitch, attempting to refocus his attention on the game. He’d been doing that far too much during this match, drifting off into space to thoughts of Stiles; it was horribly embarrassing. 

Looking down, the next thing Derek caught sight of was Malia, who had the Quaffle and was heading towards the Hufflepuff goals—straight towards Derek. As she approached, Derek whistled for Erica and Corey, advancing as they pulled up beside him. They flew towards Malia, aiming to block her from passing but she deliberately dropped the Quaffle, letting it fall down to where Theo was waiting below her.

_ “Slytherin in possession again as the tragically deformed Theo Raeken receives the Quaffle. Slytherin Beaters Aiden and Ethan Steiner follow alongside him. Up above, Seekers Yukimura and Dunbar continue to scan the pitch looking for that elusive Golden Snitch. I must say, Chaser Hale is a much better catch than the Snitch. I don’t see why the players are trying to win the game when they could be trying to win Hale’s heart instead—” _

Derek ducked too late as the twins flew past to defend Theo, their boots knocking his shoulders and throwing him out of balance. He rolled, flattened against his broom while the world spun. The world continued spinning when Derek righted himself just in time to watch Raeken score. Then Raeken doubled back around and managed to score again in quick succession, chucking the Quaffle through Hufflepuff’s defenseless hoops _ — _ poor Isaac had been knocked off and was dangling thirty feet above the ground, hanging onto his broom by the foot rests. He was struggling, but the no-contact regulations of the rule book (more specifically, no seizing of another player's broomstick or any part of their anatomy) prevented any of Isaac's teammates from helping him. 

Derek snarled, furious, and looked down, sure Finstock would call foul on the Slytherins. Finstock, unfortunately, was thoroughly engrossed in what looked like a weekend copy of  _ Quidditch Quarterly _ and appeared to have missed the entire exchange. Unbelievable. As if everyone didn’t know he was hiding  _ Witch Weekly _ behind the cover.

_ “Steiner nearly kills the opposing Hufflepuff Chaser  _ **_and_ ** _ Keeper in one shot, which I’m sure could happen to anyone. Hale’s quick recovery saves him, but yet another near-casualty caused by Slytherin beaters Steiner and Steiner is Keeper Lahey hanging on by the wire here, let’s hope he’s alright. Listen, Lahey—push down, then swing back and up with your momentum. Use your body weight, come on. You got this dude.” _

Steeling himself, Derek pushed himself to shut out the noise of the crowd, of players shouting at Isaac and the Slytherins, of Stiles’ infuriating voice. He looped back and flew up, heading up the twins with the intention of sliding under them to get to Talbot, who now possessed the Quaffle. Slytherin in the lead, 70 to 60.

_ “Chaser Talbot moving up fast with the Quaffle—he’s almost to the hoops—he shoots! He—OH! Lahey, back on his broom! Slytherin blocked with a spectacular spin from Keeper Lahey. Slytherin converges on the Quaffle received from Lahey by Chaser Bryant—tossed to Chaser Reyes—Hale—Reyes—Hale—Bryant—Hale scores! Keeper Mahealani misses the ball by the skin of his teeth. Hufflepuff and Slytherin tied up thanks to a miraculous play by Captain Hale. Hale, if you’re still alive out there and you’re interested in making some magic together, my  _ **_wand_ ** _ is always at the ready for you.” _

_ “Picking back up, it’s Hufflepuff Slytherin 70-70. Tied score. Quaffle back with Slytherin. Chaser Malia Hale off like a bullet towards the goalposts—she dodges a Bludger from Beater Hewitt, nice dive from Malia—she ducks a second Bludger—loses Chaser Bryant—she’s going for it—Slytherin scores! Keeper Lahey Hufflepuff falls short of the Quaffle. Slytherin leads, 80-70. Hufflepuff in—THE SNITCH!!” _

In a split second, the twelve other players paused in midair. Kira and Liam had gone into a dive, both of them hurtling down towards the ground, the shining glint of the golden snitch glittering out in front with barely a broom’s-length ahead of them as they chased after it. Flying far down to the ground below, their race had left Derek, Heather, and one of Slytherin twins as the only players remotely near either Seeker. Suddenly—

“Derek, she’s calling in the Beaters!” Heather called out, her eyes wide.

Derek looked up in time to see Malia call out a number, a play. Instantly, the Slytherin Beaters shot down towards the Seekers, bats at the ready. They were going for Kira. 

Kira and Liam were a blur, the ground approaching faster and faster as they closed in.

In a flash, Derek zoomed off and shot ahead of them, cutting the twins off and blocking Kira from the Bludger just as he heard the crack of the Beater’s bat. A powerful force crashed into Derek’s side, painful stars cutting across Derek’s vision as the Bludger intended for Kira slammed into his shoulder. A snapping crash from someone else’s broom pounded against his ears before—

_ “Hale shields Yukimura from Slytherin—Dunbar pulls up a second too late—they’re—she’s—OH! She’s got it!! Hufflepuff takes the Snitch! Kira Yukimura has caught the Snitch! Hufflepuff wins, 80 to 220! HUFFLEPUFF WINS!!!” _

Derek clumsily came to a still on his spinning broomstick as his team descended down onto the pitch. His shoulder screamed at him while he shakily touched down, white hot with pain. Derek stumbled as he stepped off of his broom, hardly able to believe it.  _ They’d won.  _

Stumbling to a stand, Derek caught a brief glance of Liam Dunbar being taken off in a stretcher—he’d botched his dive, crashed into the ground—before Derek and Kira were swarmed by yellow Quidditch robes.

Erica, Isaac, Corey, Heather, and Mason all touched down just as an ecstatic Kira slammed into Derek with a bone-crushing hug. Derek barely restrained himself from crying out, instead releasing a choked, painful groan as Kira squeezed him tightly. 

“Holy Hippogriffs, Derek, we won! I can’t believe you did that for me! Aiden for sure would have taken off my head if you hadn’t saved me! We won! We won!” Kira cheered, jumping up and down as she hugged him. The added motion was too much and Derek cried out, hissing out a swear. Kira let go, her eyes full of concern. “Derek?”

“Give him space! He’s hurt!” Erica pulled Kira back, whipping out her wand as the others instantly made way. None of them were willing to risk incurring Erica’s wrath, particularly not when she’d gone into full Healer mode. Corey and Mason were the first to step back—it was their first season on the team and they weren’t quite yet used to Erica’s . . . well, everything. The rest of the Hufflepuff team waited with bated breath, though their silence barely made up for the thundering of crowded footsteps echoing down from the steps of the stands.

At Erica’s words, Kira jumped back, horrified. “Oh my—Derek, your shoulder! Oh no, that’s what I heard, isn’t it? I thought it was Liam! I mean, it probably was Liam too but oh no, that’s not good! Is it—”

“Dislocated.” Derek grunted out, attempting a smile through his grimace. “Congratulations.” Kira was still clutching the Snitch—Finstock hadn’t come to collect it yet—and looked down at it with a sheepish smile. Around them, the others laughed. Derek thought he even saw a few Galleons change hands between Isaac and Heather, though he had no idea what for. The twins, he knew, had placed a losing bet on their team, though he doubted he’d see them again tonight—the Slytherins had already slunk off to their changing rooms. Meanwhile, the Hufflepuffs had mere minutes before their classmates descended onto the field to congratulate the champions. 

“Shush!” Erica scolded, bracing his opposite shoulder with her free hand as her wand pointed square at his injury. “ _ Brackium Emedeor _ .”

A purple light flashed from Erica’s wand. Derek felt a hot, cutting pain stab through him before his shoulder went cold and popped back into place. He gasped, doubling forward into Erica. Derek took a moment to catch his breath before straightening up, embarrassed.

“Thought it was  _ emendo _ .” Derek said instead of _ thank you _ , frowning down at his healed shoulder. Isaac snorted under his breath.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Erica rolled her eyes, punching him affectionately in his newly-healed shoulder. “Mispronunciations are how you get vanished bones.”

Erica took his lack of protest at her shoulder punch as an open invitation, gleefully flinging her arms around Derek and Kira. Isaac joined them a second later, followed quickly by Corey, Mason, and Heather.

The team’s group-hug didn’t separate until a large crew of people swarmed onto the field—Kira’s professor parents, Corey’s older brother, Erica’s Gryffindor boyfriend Boyd, Heathers’ younger sisters, Scott McCall and Allison Argent (both of whom had come down for Isaac). And Stiles. Stiles came down too, grinning like an idiot and looking straight at Derek.

Derek beamed. Beside him, Erica and Isaac shot him matching evil looks before sidling away, the two of them looking positively delighted. Derek scowled at their retreating backs, watching as Erica split off to makeout with Boyd while Isaac waved an awkward greeting at Scott and Allison. The team spread out, each player dispersing to meet up with their friends. Derek had only Stiles—Cora, thank Merlin, was in detention (and furious about it) and would be unable to mock him relentlessly for whatever stupid thing he was about to say in front of his crush.  _ Here goes nothing. _

“So?”

Derek turned back to find Stiles Stilinski standing proudly in front of him, his eyes lit with mischief. Stiles waggled his eyebrows, clearly pleased with himself. Derek thought back to everything Stiles had said up in the commentators’ box, hoping beyond hope that Stiles—if he was indeed truly interested at all—was interested in  _ him _ and not just his looks. 

Stiles nodded towards the players entrance, indicating for Derek to follow him over to the sidelines and away from the others. Derek did _ — _ the less people who saw him make a fool of himself in front of Stiles, the better.

“What did you think of my commentator run?” Stiles asked pleasantly, his wide brown eyes shining in the sunlight as he leaned back against the base of the stands. “Questions? Criticisms? Concerns? Dreamy declarations of hopeless, besotted love?”

“Those were some interesting comments you made up there, Stilinski.” Derek raised an eyebrow, challenging. Stiles liked to be challenged.

“What can I say?” Stiles shrugged, twirling his wand in his fingers with a bright, stunning grin. “Guess you don’t need to say  _ incendio  _ to light my _ — _ oh my god!”

Derek, shocked, stood frozen by surprise as Stiles leapt back, frantically tearing off his flaming robes and stamping them into the ground. Derek forcibly bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing—Stiles had, after all, just lit himself on fire. There was a vigorous session of jumping, and after a moment the flames fizzled out. Stiles sighed with relief and awkwardly picked his robes off the ground, showing much more care in lifting them out of the mud than he had in throwing them down. He let out a sharp breath, then immediately froze upon reengaging in eye contact with Derek.

“Um . . . ” Stiles gave an uncomfortably nervous laugh, looking as though he desperately wanted to sink into the ground, “so, uh, is there any way that the incredibly stupid mistake I just made didn’t completely ruin my chances? Because I will take even just a _ — _ a two percent chance. One percent chance? Anything? Derek?”

“Chance? You-You want—with me?” Derek managed, floored. Everyone knew about Derek’s crush on Stiles,  _ everyone _ . Did Stiles . . . like Derek back? Derek stared, dumbfounded. Yet Stiles’ face fell, obviously disappointed.

“Right. Well, yeah, but I—oh—” The hood of Stiles’ ruined robes had ripped, caught on his belt. Stiles pursed his lips, frustrated and embarrassed. He yanked it away harder than he needed to and it tore farther when he tugged it free. “ _ Seriously? _ ” He muttered under his breath, dismayed.

“Here.” Derek quickly stripped off his outer quidditch robe and offered it to Stiles, whose mouth fell open. Derek tried and failed not to look too pleased, inwardly singing as Stiles slowly began to smile.

“Holy _ — _ are you _ — _ Merlin’s beard, are you serious?” He said breathlessly, staring at Derek’s outstretched robe in utter shock. It appeared as though he couldn’t believe his luck, though Derek had no idea what that was all about. With Stiles looking at him like that, surely  _ he  _ was the lucky one.

“Well,” Derek took a deep breath, mentally bracing himself for the atrocity that was about to come out of his mouth, “I might be a Chaser but I think you’re a keeper.”

“ . . . oh my god.” Stiles sighed brilliantly, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh my god, you did not just say that to me. That’s terrible, so so terrible. I  _ love  _ it.”

Derek beamed proudly, the arm holding out his robes drooping slightly before _ — _

“Oh! Oh, here!” Stiles tapped his own ruined robes with his wand,  _ wordlessly  _ shrinking them down to the size of his hand and stuffing them into the pocket of his slacks.  _ Wordlessly _ . Derek stared.  _ Merlin’s Beard, Stiles was gifted _ . Softly, Stiles muttered a quick charm to clean off his muddied hands, then pushed his wand up his sleeve and gingerly took Derek’s robe. Derek watched as Stiles took a moment to stare at the yellow and black fabric in awe, eagerly biting his lip in his excitement. Belatedly, Derek realized _ — _

“Um, they’re probably a bit sweaty _ — _ ”

“Nope! Don’t care!” Stiles happily pulled on Derek’s quidditch uniform, shrugging his arms into the sleeves and promptly fastening the front. Their matching grins grew impossibly wider, both of them taking extreme pleasure in knowing that the name  **HALE** was now emblazoned across Stiles’ shoulders.

“You know,” Stiles said hopefully, “traditionally a kiss for good-luck is supposed to happen  _ before  _ the match, but I’ve heard that after can _ — _ mmph!”

Derek tugged Stiles forward by the front of his own robes, surging in and kissing him fiercely. Stiles’ immediate response felt natural, easy, eagerly finding himself against Derek. Stiles’ hands tangled themselves in Derek’s windblown hair, giving it a tentative tug. Derek gave a low noise of appreciation, and Stiles used his newfound leverage to deepen their kiss. His teeth scraping at Derek’s bottom lip, Stiles pressed further into Derek’s mouth, pulling him closer until he felt Derek’s hands drop to his hips, felt Derek’s tongue on his—

“You’re blocking the exit, nerds.”

They broke apart, flushed, to see Erica smirking at them like the Kneazle who’d caught the canary. Broomstick slung over her shoulder, Erica stood beside her boyfriend Boyd, who must have come down to the field to congratulate her. Isaac, the only one of the three who looked even remotely ashamed, gave the pair of them a shy thumbs-up behind Erica’s back. 

Embarrassed, Stiles and Derek uncomfortably sidestepped away from the players’ exit. Erica cackled, thrilled at having caused the awkward looks on their faces.

“We _ — _ ” Stiles started, flustered, “ _ — _ we were just _ — _ ”

“Save it!” Erica sang. “Cora owes me three galleons and it’s all thanks to you. See you at the after-party, love-birds!” Erica lifted Derek’s hand as she passed and forcibly high-fived him. Boyd shot the two of them a look that was somehow equal parts apologetic and amused, quietly chuckling at them. Isaac hastily followed, supportive but clearly not willing to chance sticking around long enough to see them kiss a second time.

The entry to the changing rooms swung shut behind them.

“So, since you won _ — _ ” Stiles reminded Derek, his fingers trailing over Derek’s jersey, “ _ — _ your next match will be Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw. Any thoughts there?”

“Good thing you’re not on their quidditch team.” Derek hummed, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Stiles’ cheek. “I’d crush you into oblivion.”

“Ha!” Stiles scoffed. “Cute and funny, what a catch! Actually . . . “

“No.” Derek warned, drawing back. “No more puns.” Stiles grinned viciously.

“But Derek, I have to know,” Stiles paused theatrically, “did you use  _ stupefy  _ on my or are you just a natural stunner?”

“I hate you!” Derek, laughing, covered his ears and started to walk to the player’s exit. Stiles’ pick-up lines were becoming more and more ridiculous, and it didn’t help at all that Derek was so far gone on Stiles they were  _ working. _

“Come back, Derek! Don’t you want to ride my broomstick? Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Stiles teased, laughing as he skipped after Derek. He caught up to him, throwing his arms around him and pulling Derek’s hands from his ears. 

“Where do you come up with these?” Derek sighed, fondly exasperated.

“Guess I’m just magic.” Stiles whispered. He spun Derek around, pressing a tiny kiss to the tip of Derek’s nose that absolutely did not make Derek blush.

Derek gave another laugh, smiling, before pulling Stiles in and taking his hand. “Yeah. I think you might be.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay there were a couple things I thought might seem a little off so I wanted to clarify that 1) Stiles put his robes in his pocket instead of repairing them because Derek had just offered him his Quidditch robes and Stiles didn’t want to lose the chance to wear Derek’s number, 2) I don’t feel like Erica is a Hufflepuff or that Danny is a total Slytherin, those are just the teams I needed them to be on, and 3) I know Derek should have been calling the Slytherins by their surnames but not all of the characters have super well-known last names and I was worried it would be confusing. Thanks so much for reading! Should I write more Teen Wolf / HP mash-ups? Let me know! :)


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